


The Salvation and the Power

by blanketforyourspock



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Archangels, Bible Kink, Bible Quotes, Bible vibes idk, F/M, Het, Lorca can be read as mirror or prime it doesn't matter, M/F, Not Canon Compliant, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-18 01:29:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14202069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blanketforyourspock/pseuds/blanketforyourspock
Summary: the patron saint of firefighters holds a match in her left hand





	The Salvation and the Power

**Author's Note:**

> Basically just some Michael/ Gabriel porn but with added bible references, what can I say

_ Gabriel, archangel, messenger on high, saint, left hand of God, foreteller, opens a fortune cookie and it's right, it's true and it's gospel. _

 

_ A copper light, a metallic taste in the mouth, a visit at night and when the prophecy arrives in your mind it is too late, Gabriel is one step ahead, always one step ahead. _

 

_ Michael, tearing through revelations, starts a war in heaven starts a battle at the binary stars and, being stronger than him, defeats Satan, defeats the might of the Klingon army.  _

 

_ Patron saint of the military, of chivalry, of suffering, a contradiction of Vulcan upbringing and of fierce hot fire that burns to leap forwards without permission, without starfleet approval; the patron saint of firefighters holds a match in her left hand. _

 

The door to Lorca’s room slides open with a metallic hiss and Burnham strides in without waiting for invitation. 

 

‘Now now Burnham, it’s polite to knock’

 

He spins around in his chair and she stands before him.

 

‘Sir, permission to speak freely’

 

‘Granted’

 

‘Are you out of your mind? You cannot send a team down to the surface, the risk is too great. I respect you, Sir, as a captain and as a friend but I cannot allow you to go ahead with this-’

 

_ Michael, archangel of mercy, bowed before Adam and now bows before Gabriel, but Gabriel is not to be prayed to, only god can answer prayers. _

 

‘Can’t you now’

 

His voice is velvet, it’s silk, it’s anger and venom and amusement, the first fall of a domino against a hardwood floor.

 

Burnham clenches her fists and breathes deeply, tries to ground herself, readies herself to reason with Lorca, but he’s up and out of his chair, grabbing her wrists and pushing her up against the cool metal wall of his quarters, and it’s going to be like this is it, fine, and she pushes him away, but now he’s got both her wrists pinned above her head so she kicks him hard in the shins, but he just smiles that predatory smile and ghosts his lips over hers. The dominoes are falling fast and the anger in Burnham has found kerosene.

 

_ When they come together it is a holy war; a crashing of thunderclouds and the resounding clang of cymbals across the heavens. It is a furious force, destroying with a mighty storm the temples of false idols, the preachers in the streets. It is the silence and the peace that follows. A column of fire meets a tidal wave; the bringer of fire meets the angel of water and scalding white steam hisses into being, fills the room with wet hot lust. _

 

She’s been here a hundred times in a hundred lives and it never gets any less infuriating when he stops attacking her mouth to ask-

 

‘and who is going to stop me?’

 

They strip each other unceremoniously, starfleet uniforms cast aside and shoes kicked against cupboards with distant thuds. Burnham is scorching, she’s on fire, and she presses her body against Lorca’s cool skin to find some equilibrium. Frantic kisses become bites, become marks on the neck, on the fine lines of collar bones and she could spit at Lorca, she could scream, or  she could arch her back and sigh as he slips two fingers into her and she doesn’t have time to consider her options before she’s picked up, thrown against the wall, and Lorca is inside her, is thrusting into her and it’s exquisite, it’s fucking glorious that’s what it is, and now she really does spit at him but he laughs, and it only serves to fuel the fire.

 

_ Michael casts angels down from heaven, with a sneer and a snap of a neck that makes short work of lesser mortals. If anyone is to be killed with the sword with the sword let them be killed.  _

 

She grips her legs tighter around him as she comes, shaking, perhaps shouting.

 

Lorca melts into Burnham, chasing release, chasing a feeling and he can feel heat, from her and from the room but never from him, it pools in his groin and he’s close, so close, and Burnham digs her nails into his shoulders and scratches along his back and that’s it, that’s enough, and he’s coming and he sees all the stars of heaven.

 

_ There is a sound from heaven like the roar of rushing waters and like a loud peal of thunder. The sound is like that of harpists playing their harps. The rest is silence.  _

 

‘I’ll reconsider it’ Lorca says later, much later, as they lie in bed together in a loose embrace, watching stars fly past outside.

 

He rolls over to grab a glass of water on the table and the scratches that Burnham left on his back are visible, form makeshift wings traced out in blood instead of feathers. 

 

_ Michael smiles. _


End file.
